


nothing gold can stay

by fallacied



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 16:52:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15151505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallacied/pseuds/fallacied
Summary: Though everyone tells me I'm under her spell / But I'll never leave her, they don't know our deal.Steve isn't a man out of time, he's just a man trapped by the past.





	nothing gold can stay

**Author's Note:**

> ☆ re-write of an ancient exo fic i wrote, based off the song _only heather_ , by wild nothing  
> ☆ this has literally no redeeming qualities  
> ☆ thank u 2 the tfa/tws/cw/iw marathon i just had yesterday

 

September arrives with the crisp, sweet scent of autumn accompanied by falling leaves and remnants of summer crunching underfoot. Steve trudges through the blanket of redorangegold covering the ground, one hand shoved deep into his coat pocket and the other clutching a large bundle to his chest. A handful of leaves flutter down to land on his shoulders, rustling loudly as he brushes them off. He thinks that they look a lot like dying butterflies, a myriad of jewel-toned wings quivering with the last fragments of life. How morbidly beautiful. His fingers twitch, longing for his colour pencils to capture the scene before him, but the weight of the bundle in his arms reminds him of the task at hand. He strides ahead, determined.

 

-

 

Steve thinks that Bucky looks the loveliest like this, sprawled out across their bed carelessly with moonlight streaming in from the crack between the curtains to fall across silicone skin and silken hair. Leaning forward, Steve tenderly brushes his lips along the jut of Bucky's cheekbone, the divot in his chin, “You’re so beautiful.”

 

He fucks - no, _makes love_ \- to Bucky later on, skin on skin sounding out harshly and fingers tangled into soft dark locks. Bucky is pliant in Steve's hands, head thrown back against the pillows and arms hooked loosely around Steve's neck as Steve drives his hips forward in long, smooth thrusts, panting harshly against the smooth curve of Bucky's neck, the plateau of his collarbones. It’s not long before Steve comes with a low cry of _Oh, god - Buck -_ , hips still thrusting weakly as he presses his face into Bucky's chest.

 

They lie in bed together afterwards, Bucky quiet as Steve curls up next to him, throwing one arm across his abdomen and lifting the other to trace the soft angles of Bucky's features. “I love you, Buck, do you know that?” Steve presses a kiss to the side of Bucky's mouth, fingers moving downwards to cup his jaw, his neck, down to his shoulders and chest; nails dragging harshly across unmarred skin. A choked sob, salt staining mouth and dampness streaking down cheeks. “I love you so, so much.”

 

Bucky remains silent.

 

-

 

September comes with the crisp, sweet scent of autumn accompanied by falling leaves and remnants of summer crunching underfoot. Steve trudges through the blanket of redorangegold covering the ground, one hand shoved deep into his coat pocket and the other clutching a large bundle to his chest. A handful of leaves flutter down to land on his shoulders, rustling loudly as he brushes them off. Steve thinks that they look a lot like dying butterflies, a myriad of jewel-toned wings quivering with the last fragments of life. How morbidly beautiful.

 

There’s a small smile curving his lips as he steps off the winding path through the cemetery, walking forward to kneel down in front of a gravestone. A bouquet of fresh roses are laid down gently on the pristine marble, followed by the bundle that had been held tight within Steve's arms.

 

“Look who I brought to visit you today?” Steve carefully pulls apart the cloth at the top of the bundle to reveal glass eyes and deep brown hair. Further down, a metallic left arm glints as it catches the light. “I had him custom-made in Japan. The internet's more useful than I thought. Sam, Sam thinks that I've gone mad, but I'm not. I just. Buck, he doesn't understand. Sam, Nat, Clint, all of them; they don't understand.”

 

Steve raises the hand he’d been using to card through soft, artificial locks; strains his body forward so that he can trace a finger over the words carved into the gravestone.

 

_James Buchanan Barnes_

_1917 - 2018_

_To live in the hearts of those we love is not to die._

**Author's Note:**

> ☆ if anyone would like to know: this is mostly because i've seen so many tweets/tumblr posts where people are like "oh, steve is so selfish!! he crashed the valkyrie bc bucky died n he couldn't live w himself!!" or "steve literally fought tony & became a fugitive bc of bucky!!!" etc and while i respectfully disagree............ it's interesting to me to explore grief in this way i guess  
> ☆ mostly because i am amazed by steve's mental tenacity??? bUt yes i m sorry for this


End file.
